It was our first date. A fix-up, actually. My older sister was friends with her older brother and they schemed to try to get us together, thinking we might be a good match.
My sister gave me her phone number and pestered me until I finally called her. We talked for nearly an hour. I told her I wasn’t a fan of blind dates. Neither was she. She didn’t want to commit to a night-time date, so I asked her if she wanted to go on a picnic with me on Saturday. She agreed.
I packed a picnic basket, complete with wine, cheese, French bread, grapes, and a red and white checkered tablecloth. I had the perfect spot in mind for our assignation.
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